wrigley field
At the end of my senior year in college, my close friends Paul and Erik passed through Chicago on their way across the country. Having finished their final exams, they were on their way from Utah to Massachusetts and figured a detour to Chicago was in order.
They had never been to the Windy City and what better time to visit than spring, right? Little did they know that “spring” in Chicago is purely symbolic. The term can mean sunshine … or snow. Brilliant blue skies and flowers … or menacing grey and burnt-brown grass.
I’ll let you guess which one they got.
On their first night, I think we hit up the Evanston nightlife1 before coming back to my place for most likely Warsteiners deep into the night. The next day we headed into the city to get some breakfast and enjoy an afternoon at the Friendly Confines.
The skies, it appeared, had other plans.
We bought our tickets anyway and headed to a nearby restaurant in Wrigleyville for a quick breakfast.
– Do you have reservations?
Ahm. Ha … No.
– OK. It looks like we actually have a table. Right this way.
Hm. Guess it must be busy before a Cubs game on a Sunday?
Luckily it looked like we had beat the brunch crowd. We took a seat and ordered our coffees. As the caffeine began to kick in, we couldn’t help but notice the occasional sour look in our general direction. All the tables surrounding us were filled with families who didn’t seem to care for three haggard college fellas slobbering over their bacon.
Then it struck us: “Wait … is today MOTHER’S DAY?”
Yup.
That would explain the hodgepodge of mothers young and old with children of all ages.
We laughed heartily at our ignorance, took a last sip of coffee, ate another slice of cured pork product and headed to the Cubs game.
It was FREEZING: 55-degrees, sleet/rain with the Cubs getting spanked by the Brewers. I remember we left shortly after the BrewCrew hit a Grand Slam to make it like 12-1.
Welcome to every spring as a Cubs fan.
We took the El back to the North Side, and after a short nap I’m sure we each called our respective mothers to wish them a happy Mom’s Day.2
Almost exactly twelve years later, I chuckle at that day and at our general lack of awareness of this—dare I say it—Hallmark Holiday …
Mom, I love you and not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate everything you have done for me. Your influence, positivity and support goes beyond just a day in May. It resonates everyday of my life. Thank you for your laugh and your fun and for being YOU.
And I don’t care whether it’s May 11 or September 2 or February 19: Happy Mother’s Day!
